The Coconut Casanova
by ForeverLulu
Summary: Gilligan gets hit on the head by a falling coconut and turns into a Ladies' Man, and learns a little about love along the way. Rated T. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Story Summary- Gilligan is hit on the head and becomes a ladies' man. **

**A/N:** There was once an episode of Dusty's Trail where Dusty ate some berries and returned to camp 'brimming with confidence'. I have never seen the episode - I believe it's one of the DT eps that was sadly lost forever. But this idea is loosely based on that. A confident Gilligan is something I'd sure like to see.

Story rated **T** just to be on the safe side as there will be more chapters to follow. Big shout out to JWood201 who never lets me forget a story idea and makes sure I get it written!

Please R&R, and I will love you forever and a day.

* * *

**The Coconut Casanova**

It was without a doubt the hottest day of the year so far. The air was thick with moisture and the sun was a harsh white disc that glared unblinkingly down from the sky and made everything shimmer. Insects droned lazily, animals huddled in the shade and even the birds were quiet, subdued by the intense heat.

First Mate Willy Gilligan sat at the top of the coconut tree with sweat running down his temples and his shirt sticking to his back and the Skipper yelling at him from down below to hurry up. The machete was getting tangled up in the thick, leafy fronds as he chopped away at a particularly stubborn bunch of coconuts.

"Gilligan, I'm getting a sore neck from looking up at you! What are you _doing_ up there?" the Skipper shouted impatiently. He was hot and bothered and sweat patches were beginning to ring the armpits of his blue shirt.

"Don't worry, Skipper, I'll be down soon," Gilligan yelled back, leaning forward as far as he could to hack at the coconuts.

"If Mary Ann doesn't get these coconuts, she won't be able to make coconut crème pie!" the Skipper said with a rising note of panic in his voice.

"Oh, boy, that would be terrible!" Gilligan agreed. He gripped the machete tightly and leaned forward even more until he was hanging half way out of the tree. There was a big, fat bunch of ripened coconuts hanging right beneath him, perfect for coconut crème pies, and he was determined to get them all.

The white hot sun flashed through the swaying fronds and jabbed Gilligan in the eye, making him squint and blink, losing concentration momentarily. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he brandished the machete, took a mighty swing at the coconuts, and began chopping, filling the air with loud grunts of exertion.

Coconuts began to drop into the basket placed below. Gilligan was about to congratulate himself for doing something right when suddenly there was an ominous crack and the palm frond he was leaning on began to give way. He looked up and blinked. The palm frond creaked again and began to dip downwards.

"Uh-oh..." he gulped, scrabbling behind him for a firmer hand hold.

"Yes, that _would_ be terrible, and you'd have no-one to blame but yourself!" The Skipper was still pacing under the tree and complaining, oblivious to what was happening above him. He didn't hear the splintering crack of the palm frond as it peeled away from the trunk, carrying Gilligan with it.

"Skipper!" Gilligan sheathed the machete quickly and grabbed onto the palm frond for dear life. "Oh, no...Skippppeeeerrrrr!"

"What _is_ it, Gilligan?" The Skipper looked up just as Gilligan slid off the broken palm frond and came plummeting out of the tree.

"_Skippppeeeerrrrr! _Help,_ Skippppeeerrrr!_" The First Mate fell with his arms and legs flailing.

"Little Buddy!" the Skipper cried. He threw his huge arms outwards just in time to catch Gilligan a split second before he hit the ground.

"Gee, thanks, Skipper," Gilligan grinned, seemingly none the worse for his ordeal. "Good catch!"

The Skipper, meanwhile, looked like he'd just been hit by a bus. It had taken all of his strength not to be floored by the weight of a full grown man landing squarely in his arms and now his heart was hammering in his chest like a road drill. He stared hard at Gilligan, whose face was just inches from his.

"Gilligan, I _told _you to be careful up there! Are you all right?"

Gilligan nodded. "I'm fine, Skipper, thanks for saving me. I just..."

Without any warning a loosened coconut followed Gilligan out of the tree and bopped him squarely on the head. Gilligan went cross eyed and started blinking.

"When did it start raining?" he inquired, puzzled.

"Little Buddy!" the Skipper cried. "That wasn't rain, that was a..."

Then another, bigger coconut fell out of the tree and bopped Gilligan on the head, and this time his face slackened into a silly smile and his eyes began rolling around in a circle.

"What's that pretty music?" he slurred, drunkenly. "Are we having a party?"

"No, Gilligan, you just got hit on the head by two coconuts!"

"Oh. Is that all?" Gilligan hiccuped, giggled softly to himself, and went out like a light.

The Skipper hurried back to camp with Gilligan held tightly in his arms. When the other castaways saw him they all came running in excitement to hover over the unconscious First Mate.

"Poor Gilligan!" said Ginger, removing Gilligan's hat and feeling for bumps on his head.

"Has anyone checked the coconuts for damage?" Mr. Howell suggested, before assuring everyone that he was only joking.

The Skipper carried Gilligan into the hut, placed him gently in the top hammock and covered him with a blanket while the Professor went to get a jar of smelling salts from his collection of makeshift medical supplies.

Mary Ann fussed over Gilligan, mopping his brow with a damp cloth. "Gilligan, I'll make you the biggest, sweetest coconut crème pie you've ever tasted if you'll just wake up," she murmured, wiping the cloth gently across his pale forehead and brushing the hair from his eyes.

The Professor returned with the smelling salts, uncorked the jar, and waved it back and forth under Gilligan's nose. The strong chemical aroma had the desired effect, and everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief when Gilligan scrunched up his face, opened his eyes and lay there blinking at the palm frond ceiling.

"Where am I?" he wondered aloud. "Last thing I remember I was sitting in a coconut tree."

"Gilligan, Little Buddy! You're all right!" Relief washed over the Skipper like a tsunami. He clapped Gilligan on the shoulder and broke into a hearty laugh.

"Of course I'm all right, Skipper," Gilligan replied, calmly.

"My Little Buddy knows who I am!" The Skipper's voice was filled with joy. "He hasn't lost his memory!"

All the castaways began laughing with relief, patting Gilligan on the shoulders and rocking the hammock to and fro.

"Why's everyone making such a fuss?" Gilligan asked, gripping the sides of the hammock as it swayed violently.

"Because those coconuts knocked you clean out, that's why!" Skipper grinned and ruffled the boy's hair. "You have two lumps on your head the size of turtle eggs to prove it!"

The Professor folded his arms and approached the hammock with a concerned look. "I want to make sure you haven't suffered any lasting damage, Gilligan. Tell me- do you recognize _everyone _here?"

Gilligan attempted to sit up in the still swaying hammock. He began looking from castaway to castaway, smiling at everyone. "Sure I do! You're the Professor, he's the Skipper, there's Mr. and Mrs. Howell, and right here is..."

Gilligan's gaze landed on Ginger and lingered there longer than it should. The First Mate looked the movie star slowly up and down without any qualms, devouring her shapely form with his eyes.

"H-hi, Gilligan," Ginger stammered, looking distinctly worried.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," Gilligan replied smoothly.

Ginger blinked in surprise. "_Hello there, beautiful_?" She stared at the Professor and her mouth fell open.

The Professor exchanged a startled look with the Skipper. The Howells coughed politely and Mrs. Howell put her hand on Mr. Howell's arm.

"Gilligan, are you feeling all right?" asked Mary Ann, stepping forward around Ginger.

Gilligan turned to look at the Kansas farm girl. "Mary Ann," he said, subjecting her to the same lazy scrutiny. "Sweet, wonderful Mary Ann. You're looking as winsome and delightful as ever."

"Winsome?" Mary Ann stammered. "Delightful?"

"Gilligan, are you sure you're feeling all right?" the Professor asked, peering into Gilligan's face.

Gilligan folded his arms neatly behind his head, lay back in the hammock and grinned broadly at the Professor. "Of course I'm feeling all right! I'm shipwrecked on a deserted island with the two most beautiful girls on earth. Why wouldn't I be feeling all right?"

Ginger and Mary Ann looked at each other in wide-eyed amazement.

The Howells shuffled and murmured anxiously to each other.

The Professor stroked his chin, lost in deep thought, and the Skipper buried his face in his hands and shook his big head in despair.

"Oh, boy," he muttered, softly. "Oh, _boy!_"


	2. Chapter 2

Gilligan sat on the Supply Hut table happily swinging his legs while the Professor carried out a series of medical checks. The Professor took out a tongue depressor and peered into the First Mate's mouth. He examined inside Gilligan's ears and shone a small light into his eyes. He listened to Gilligan's chest with his bamboo stethoscope. When he tapped Gilligan's knee with a small hammer to check his reflexes, Gilligan's foot shot up and kicked the Skipper in the stomach. The big man bent over with a loud "oof!"

"Sorry, Skipper," Gilligan said, trying not to giggle.

"I can't understand it," the Professor said, unhooking the stethoscope from around his neck. "All of Gilligan's vital signs are completely normal."

"Normal for Gilligan, that is," the Skipper grimaced, rubbing his stomach.

"Am I fit for duty, Professor?" Gilligan asked with an amiable grin.

The Professor nodded. "Physically, yes. However, it's your personality change I'm worried about."

"What personality change?" Gilligan inquired.

Just then, Ginger sashayed into the hut dressed in her nurse's uniform. Gilligan's head snapped round and he let out a loud wolf whistle. "Hell-ooo, Nurse!" he exclaimed, blatantly ogling her up and down.

"_That _personality change!" the Skipper retorted.

Ginger crossed the room hurriedly and hid behind the Professor.

"There _must _be a cure," the Professor mused, frowning thoughtfully.

"How about I take two of her and call you in the morning?" Gilligan responded, staring at the movie star.

"How about you just sit there and watch your mouth?" the Skipper barked. "Can't you see there's a lady present?"

"And what a lady!" Gilligan agreed. "Cutie, you better take my temperature 'cause I sure am burning up right now!"

Ginger gasped out loud and sidled even further behind the Professor. "Gilligan! Shame on you!"

"Why don't you come on over here and show me your bedside manner?" Gilligan went on, waggling his eyebrows and patting the table next to him.

"Gilligan, just you stop that right now!" Ginger scolded. She ducked down even further and clutched the Professor's shoulders for reassurance.

"It's all right, Ginger," the Skipper said, in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension. "Gilligan's just not feeling himself today, that's all. Are you, Gilligan?"

"Why would I want to feel myself when I can feel _Ginger_?" Gilligan hopped down off the table and Ginger squealed and ran out of the hut.

The Skipper put his arm out and stopped Gilligan in his tracks, lifting the struggling First Mate bodily back onto the table. "That's enough, Gilligan! Look, we all know Ginger's a beautiful girl, but there's no need to put it so bluntly."

"But that's just it, Skipper." Gilligan stared at the door which Ginger had left swinging open in her haste to escape. "I never realised Ginger was a beautiful girl before. Or Mary Ann, come to think of it. I mean, I knew she was pretty and all, but..." He broke off to stare beseechingly at his friends. "It's like it's suddenly hit me. Just how beautiful the girls really are."

"I'll tell you what hit you, Gilligan. Two coconuts hit you," the Skipper said, brusquely. "That's why you're behaving differently."

The Professor nodded. "Let me explain, Gilligan. The force of the blow from the coconuts appears to have disrupted specific synaptic electrical impulses in the brain which control certain aspects of your behaviour, such as shyness, modesty and inhibition."

"Oh, well. _That_ explains everything!" Skipper chuckled, rolling his eyes.

Gilligan looked at the Professor and frowned. "I'm not sure what all of that means, Professor. But if you're talking about finding a cure, I don't know that I want to be cured."

The Skipper's eyes widened. "You don't _want_ to be cured?" he uttered, aghast. "Why don't you want to be cured, Little Buddy?"

Gilligan straightened his hat and grinned at the Skipper. "Because for once in my life I'm one of the guys. And you know what? It feels pretty good!"

With that, Gilligan hopped down from the table and strolled confidently out of the hut, leaving the Skipper and the Professor standing there with their mouths hanging open in amazement.

* * *

"Oh, Thurston, look! A dirty, filthy puddle!"

Out on their daily stroll, Mr. and Mrs. Howell had come across a small freshwater stream that had begun to dry up in the heat. In front of them lay a large puddle of thick, gloopy mud that would be impossible to cross without getting their feet covered in goo.

"What are we going to do?" Mrs. Howell lamented, twirling her parasol.

Mr. Howell stroked his chin for a couple of seconds. "Well, after giving it much consideration, Lovey, there's only one thing we can do. We'll just have to go back."

"But our whole afternoon's routine will be disrupted!" Mrs. Howell wailed.

Mr. Howell raised his eyebrows. "Who's going to find out? A couple of baboons and a parrot?"

"Thurston! Don't tell me you're giving up!"

"A Howell? Give up? We just change our priorities, that's all."

"Really, Thurston. All I'm asking for is a way to get across this horrid puddle! I'm sure it's not beyond your capabilities."

"But, Lovey! What about Cocktail Hour?"

Mrs. Howell was not about to change her mind. "We have our walk, and _then_ we have Cocktail Hour! Just because no-one from the Country Club can see us, doesn't mean we should immediately start relaxing our standards!"

Mr. Howell began sulking and muttering to himself. It seemed as though the Howells had reached an impasse when Gilligan suddenly appeared on the path behind them.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Howell," he smiled, tipping his hat. "Is there a problem here?"

"Yes, Gilligan. Look!" Mrs. Howell dramatically pointed one gloved finger at the puddle. "How on earth am I going to get across this mud?"

Gilligan gave Mrs. Howell a huge, beaming grin. "Allow me," he said. He approached Mr. Howell and removed the immaculate Country Club blazer from the millionaire's shoulders, then laid it across the puddle with a flourish.

"What the-?" Mr. Howell spluttered.

"Madame," Gilligan smiled, offering Mrs. Howell his arm.

"Why, Gilligan!" Mrs. Howell beamed. "How gallant of you!"

Gilligan escorted Mrs. Howell across the puddle on top of her husband's blazer. The millionaire watched in dismay as his blazer sank down into the thick mud under their feet like something that had been run over and left for dead.

Gilligan and Mrs. Howell crossed the puddle safely, reaching the other side without a speck of mud on their shoes.

"There you go, Mrs. Howell," Gilligan said, gracing her with his most winning smile.

Mrs. Howell reached out and pinched his cheek affectionately. "Thank you, Gilligan. It's nice to know there's at least _one_ gentleman on the island."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Howell," Gilligan replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I promised I'd help Mary Ann with the chores." He raised his hat, gave a small bow, and set off on his way, whistling cheerfully.

"Why, the absolute _nerve _of that boy!" Mr. Howell, forced to cross the puddle in the same manner, was now attempting to shake the dripping mud from his crumpled blazer, without much success. He grumbled unhappily as thick globs of mud fell off the coat and splattered onto his shoes.

"Bite your tongue, Thurston!" Mrs. Howell dismissed her husband's grumbling, twirling her parasol coquettishly while she watched the First Mate amble jauntily up the path. "If this is the new Gilligan, then all I can say is, long may our good fortunes last!"


	3. Chapter 3

Mary Ann was hard at work washing dishes in the bamboo sink, but the heat lay on her like a heavy blanket, making it difficult to concentrate. As she dunked a plate in the water to rinse it off, a fat bead of perspiration slid down her cheek. She tipped her head sideways to wipe her face on her shoulder and another bead of perspiration promptly went into her eye. She huffed in annoyance and the plate slipped out of her hand and fell into the water with a splash. Blowing the hair out of her eyes, she fished around for it in the bottom of the sink, muttering quietly under her breath.

"Say, what's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" came a smooth voice from behind her.

Mary Ann dropped the plate into the water again, sending soap suds flying. She put her hand on her chest to still her heart, then swatted the First Mate's shoulder. "Gilligan! You made me jump, creeping up on me like that!"

"I'm sorry," Gilligan grinned. "It's these shoes."

Mary Ann put her hands on her hips. "Maybe we ought to tie a bell around your neck."

Gilligan gave a theatrical leer. "You can ring my bell any day, sweetheart!" he hollered.

Mary Ann shook her head in mock exasperation. "Tell me again why you're here?" she sighed.

Gilligan puffed out his chest and adopted a pose like Superman. "Put all your worries aside, Mary Ann, because your favourite First Mate is here to help you with the chores!"

Mary Ann picked up a clean towel and thrust it at him. "Then get drying, Loverboy," she smiled.

Gilligan took the towel and began wiping plates, but then he stopped and looked at Mary Ann, curiously. "You look tired," he observed, "although it doesn't do anything to lessen your ravishing beauty."

Mary Ann wiped her face on her arm and flapped the neck of her blouse. "Thanks for the compliment, Gilligan, but it's this heat- it's unbearable. I'd love to just sit under a tree with a cool drink right now."

Gilligan's voice became full of concern. "You poor little thing. Here, let me help." He lifted the end of the towel and began to wipe away the perspiration from Mary Ann's face. She closed her eyes while he dabbed gently around each one, then he stroked the towel slowly over her cheeks and chin and down each side of her neck. He took his time and he was very thorough.

"Feels nice," she murmured, blissfully.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Mary Ann. All you have to do is say the word."

Mary Ann cracked one eye open. "Because I'm winsome and delightful?" she teased.

"The Jewel of the Midwest," Gilligan agreed. He 'beeped' Mary Ann playfully on the end of her nose, then he put the towel down and brushed the hair away from her forehead with his fingertips. "Better now?" he asked, tucking a final strand behind her ear.

"Much better!" Mary Ann said, brightly. "Oh, Gilligan, you don't know how much nicer it feels not to have sweat running down my neck."

"I bet it feels pretty good," he grinned. "You look a lot happier now, anyway."

Their eyes met and a spark flew between them, making Gilligan blink and Mary Ann bite the inside of her lip. Then Mary Ann lifted a clean plate out of the water and handed it to him. "I'm happy because you're here, Gilligan, corny pickup lines and all. With the two of us working, we'll have these chores finished in no time."

As they worked, Ginger came sailing by. No longer in her nurse's uniform, she fixed Gilligan with a petulant glare.

"I'm surprised he hasn't chased you half way around the huts by now," she said to Mary Ann.

"Why would he do that?" Mary Ann asked, her eyes wide.

"Because that's what he tried to do to me," Ginger replied, and swanned off with her nose in the air before the other two castaways could say anything.

Mary Ann stared at the First Mate, who didn't look in the least bit perturbed. In fact, he was smiling proudly.

"Gilligan? Is that true?"

"Maybe so," he replied, nonchalantly wiping a plate and placing it on top of the stack.

"But why?"

Gilligan pushed his hat to the back of his head. "Well, she was hot to trot and dressed like a nurse and I'm just a normal, red-blooded guy, in case you hadn't noticed."

Mary Ann shook her head. "But that's just it, Gilligan! You're _not _a normal, red-blooded guy!"

Gilligan's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not?"

"No! Well, up until today you weren't! You don't chase girls around the hut, no matter how they're dressed. You're kind, and shy, and sweet, and caring, and not in the least bit...red-blooded." Blushing, and feeling very confused, Mary Ann reached for a towel to dry her hands. "Just how hard did those coconuts hit you, anyway?" she wondered aloud.

Silence descended into the space between them while Mary Ann dried her hands and gazed out over the trees, with Gilligan's eyes upon her all the while. Then finally he spoke.

"I think we left a spoon in the sink," he said, casually.

Mary Ann put down the towel and slipped her hand back into the water. "Are you sure?" she asked, feeling around but not finding anything.

Gilligan pushed his sleeve up and slid his arm into the water. His fingers brushed lightly over Mary Ann's and she gasped at the sudden tingle that buzzed up her arm. Then Gilligan closed his hand around hers before she could pull it away.

"I guess I was wrong," he said, softly. "It must have been a trick of the light."

Mary Ann could see for herself that there was no spoon- Gilligan had done this on purpose. She stared at their interlocking fingers below the drifting suds. The image looked peculiar and distorted, not quite real- yet the feel of his hand around hers was very real indeed. Tingles ran up her arm and down her spine and a fresh bead of sweat trickled down the nape of her neck and into her blouse.

"There's something I want to tell you, Mary Ann," Gilligan continued in the same soft tone. "Something I think you should know." He shifted his weight, which brought them fractionally closer together, and cleared his throat as though he were about to make a speech. "Do you remember when Mrs. Howell tried to set us up?"

"That was a long time ago, Gilligan, and I've tried hard to put it behind me," Mary Ann murmured. "I don't see why you have to mention it now."

"Just listen to me, please," Gilligan insisted. "What I'm trying to say is, I haven't been fair to you, Mary Ann. I should have told you then that I liked you, but I didn't. There were other times too, but I was shy and scared and I thought if I ignored the feelings they would just go away. But they didn't. And now I'm getting those same feelings all over again. Except now, I know what they are."

"Gilligan, if you're trying to distract me from thinking about you and Ginger..."

"No, Mary Ann, forget Ginger. I'm saying that I _like_ you. That I've always liked you, and I think it's time I told you, that's all."

Mary Ann couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was Gilligan making a declaration of love? Did he even realise the magnitude of what he was saying?

"Gilligan, please, you've had an accident," she told him. "You're not yourself today."

"I'm tired of being told I'm not myself," Gilligan said, earnestly. "Maybe it's the opposite way round. Maybe I wasn't myself _before_ I got hit on the head. Maybe _this_ is how I'm supposed to be. I'm a man, Mary Ann, and for the first time in my life I _feel_ like a man. A real, red-blooded man."

Mary Ann blinked and swallowed hard. "I...I don't know what to say, Gilligan. This is all so sudden."

Gilligan squeezed her hand gently, and then let go. He pulled his arm out of the water and Mary Ann pulled her hand out of the water and then she stared at it, at the water dripping off her fingers onto the sand, wondering why it didn't look any different when the rest of her body felt like a mass of warm jelly.

"Will you at least think about it?" he asked, watching her intently.

"I don't know if it's you talking or the bump on your head talking," Mary Ann admitted, unable to look him in the eye. "And I don't know if you do, either."

Gilligan reached for her hands, holding them gently in the space between them both. "I promise you, Mary Ann, it's me talking," he smiled. "I think the bump on the head did a good thing, because it finally made me see what I've been missing."

"Are you serious?" Mary Ann heard the tinge of hope in her voice and wondered if he could hear it too.

"Scout's Honour," Gilligan smiled.

Mary Ann finally looked up into his eyes, which seemed brighter and more alert than she'd ever seen them. "All right, Gilligan," she said, at last. "If it really is you talking, then I will. I'll think about it."

Gilligan sighed with audible relief. He let go of Mary Ann's hands and reached up to straighten his hat. "You've made me a very happy man, Mary Ann," he told her. "I know this is all very sudden- it's sudden to me, too. But since I got hit on the head I feel like I need to make up for lost time."

Mary Ann watched Gilligan fix his hat and straighten his collar and smooth down the front of his shirt. "And is that how you make up for lost time?" she said, shyly. "By chasing Ginger around the huts?"

Gilligan caught the look in her eye and pretended to study his fingernails. "If that's what it takes," he said airily, and then ducked nimbly away with a very Gilligan-like yell as Mary Ann flicked him with the dish towel.

* * *

Mary Ann found Ginger in the Girl's Hut, sitting at the vanity and sorting out her jewelry box. "You'll never guess what Gilligan did," she sighed, flopping down onto her bunk with a dreamy smile.

"He turned into a wolf?"

"No, he did not."

"Then I'm all out of guesses." Ginger picked up two large, dangly earrings and placed them carefully into the box.

"For your information, Ginger, he finally confessed his feelings to me! Isn't that wonderful? After all this time. To think I'd almost given up hope!"

Ginger swivelled around and stared at her friend in disbelief. "Mary Ann, are you sure you didn't get hit on the head, too?"

Mary Ann's mouth fell open. "Ginger, how could you say such a thing? Aren't you happy that Gilligan's finally growing up?"

"Honey, you know as well as I do that Gilligan isn't growing up. He's suffering from a concussion that's making him chase after women and as soon as the Professor finds a cure for it, he'll forget everything he ever told you." Ginger smiled sadly, and became concerned for her friend. "Please, Mary Ann. Don't get too hopeful- I'd hate to see you hurt all over again."

"I don't think that's it at all," Mary Ann retorted. "Firstly, I think you're comparing Gilligan to the kind of men you used to meet in Hollywood."

"If you'd seen the way he was behaving earlier, you wouldn't doubt it," Ginger said, wryly.

"And secondly," Mary Ann went on, "Maybe you don't _want_ to see me happy."

Ginger's green eyes widened. "Of course I want to see you happy, Mary Ann! But honey, this isn't _Gilligan_ talking. Don't you see?"

Mary Ann got up and stalked towards the door. "Well, I'm sorry you don't believe me, but it _is_ Gilligan talking. He promised me. He even said Scout's Honour! So there!" With that, she flounced out of the hut and shut the door so hard that a cloud of dust drifted down from the ceiling.

"Oh, well, if he said Scout's Honour, then it _must_ be true." Ginger shook her head and dropped all of her remaining jewelry into the box with a clatter. "Oh, Mary Ann. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into!"


	4. Chapter 4

Ginger was strolling happily along one of the more picturesque jungle paths. She was minding her own business, admiring the tropical blooms (while keeping to the shade), when suddenly an ear-splitting wolf whistle pierced the air like a knife, making her wince. Moments later, Gilligan appeared on the path in front of her, wearing the leery, lop-sided grin that he seemed to have reserved especially for the poor long-suffering actress.

"You must be jelly 'cause jam don't shake like that!" he declared, loudly.

Ginger rolled her eyes and sighed pointedly. "Hi, Gilligan."

Gilligan gave another whistle of appreciation and pushed his hat rakishly to the side. "Somebody call the cops, because it's gotta be illegal to look that good!"

Ginger ignored his comment and fixed him with a stern glare. "You're not going to get anywhere with lines like that, I can assure you."

Gilligan didn't look in the least bit bothered as he sidled closer. "Did it hurt?" he asked, innocently.

"Did what hurt?"

"When you fell out of Heaven."

"Not as much as it's going to hurt you if you don't stop this nonsense," Ginger retorted.

Gilligan pursed his lips and sucked in a puff of air while shaking his fingers up and down. "Ouch, you burned me! But you always were fiery, Ginger. I like that."

"No, you don't!" said Ginger, indignantly. "You always run a mile when you see me coming, and I wish you would now! Besides, what would Mary Ann say if she caught you flirting like this?"

A faraway look came into Gilligan's eyes. He leaned against the nearest tree and sighed dreamily. "Sweet, wonderful Mary Ann," he murmured. "If I had a flower for every time I thought of her, I could walk in my own garden forever."

"Would that be one of those gardens with a high wall around it?"

"Make fun if you want, Ginger," said Gilligan, "but now that you mention Mary Ann, there's actually a reason why I came looking for you."

"Be careful," Ginger warned. "I know karate."

"Sweetheart, if you wanna get physical, that's fine with me!"

"Just cut to the chase, Gilligan," Ginger sighed. "What is it that you came for?"

"Kissing lessons," Gilligan said, grinning broadly.

Ginger's face went white and the flower she was holding fell from her hand. "_Kissing lessons_?" she croaked.

"Yeah." Gilligan turned away from Ginger so that he could collect his thoughts and say what he wanted without hesitation. "See, I want to ask Mary Ann out on a real, proper date, and I'm pretty sure if all goes well there'll be some kissing involved later on so I just wanted to know if..."

A flurry of leaves disturbed the corner of Gilligan's vision and he turned back around to find that he was talking to empty air. Ginger had disappeared, leaving nothing but a faint waft of perfume and a fallen flower lying on the ground behind her, and a few bushes with their branches still trembling to mark the direction in which she had fled.

Gilligan shrugged, then tipped his head back and pulled his hat philosophically down over his brow. "I guess she just wants to put her best lipstick on," he mused, and wandered off down the path in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Professor! Can you please do something about Gilligan?"

Ginger had run straight to the Supply Hut in search of the man of science. She was now standing in front of him with both hands placed flat on the table, leaning forward somewhat so that her impressive cleavage was amply (but innocently) displayed.

"I'm not sure there's anything we _can _do," the Professor admitted, trying hard to keep his eyes level with Ginger's face. "Gilligan isn't suffering from amnesia. He isn't suffering from psychotic mood swings. He remembers who he is and who we are. The only thing about him that seems to have changed is his..." the Professor hesitated, went slightly pink, and then finished, "...libido."

"When you say 'changed', you mean 'appeared out of nowhere'?" Ginger leaned further across the table. "Professor, Gilligan was always so shy, and sweet, and non-threatening. That's what I liked about him. Now he's just a wolf in First Mate's clothing!"

"I understand what it must be like for you, Ginger."

"No, I don't think you do, Professor! How would you like it if I kept wolf-whistling at you and shouting comments about your appearance at full volume across the clearing?"

"I would hope that any approach by you towards me would be a little more subtle," the Professor remarked, and then did a double take, as though wondering why he'd just said that.

"Believe me, there is nothing subtle about Gilligan's approach," Ginger muttered. "This morning he asked me for a dime so he could call his mom and tell her he'd met the girl of his dreams. If I had a dime for every guy who tried to pick me up with a line like that, I'd be richer than the Howells!"

The Professor looked as if he were trying hard to stifle a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ginger demanded.

The Professor coughed and cleared his throat, then attempted to put his serious face back on. "I must admit that due to the incongruity of the situation, a line like that coming from Gilligan does seem rather humorous."

"Oh!" Ginger exclaimed, standing up straight so that her cleavage deflated. "You men are all the same! If you're not catcalling or wolf-whistling, you're cackling like hyenas thinking everything is funny!"

The Professor employed his mildest tone of voice to placate the indignant actress. "I assure you, Ginger, I'm not trying to make light of things, I'm just pointing out the absurdity of it all. I'll tell you what- I'll have a word with Gilligan and see if there isn't some way we can get him to tone down his behaviour."

"How about trying to cure him?" Ginger said. "I want our old, sweet, lovable Gilligan back, not this howling tomcat!"

The Professor shook his head. "He doesn't want to be cured. He likes the way he is now, and as long as he's not a danger to himself or anybody else, he's perfectly entitled to refuse treatment."

"Well, he may be perfectly entitled to refuse treatment," Ginger mused, "but what if treatment comes to him? Like the time he accidentally vaccinated himself? You know how clumsy Gilligan is. What if he _accidentally_ hit his head again?"

With that, Ginger turned on her heel and swanned out of the Supply Hut, leaving the Professor staring, dumbfounded, after her.

* * *

"Skipper, I'm thinking of asking Mary Ann out on a real, proper date."

Gilligan was standing in front of the mirror with his hat off, combing his hair. He swept it neatly across his forehead and tucked every loose strand behind his ears and then stood admiring himself from every angle.

The Skipper looked up from the old sailing chart he was studying and smiled warmly at his little buddy. "Well, that's nice, Gilligan! A real, proper date, after all these years."

"Yeah. So do you think you could be out when we get back?"

The Skipper's smile fell off. "_What_?" he cried in disbelief.

Gilligan lifted his chin and studied his jawline. "Do you think you could be out? You know. So that Mary Ann and I can be alone."

"No, I do not think I could be out! I live here, Gilligan. This is my hut too!"

"Then maybe I should have my own hut," Gilligan mused. He licked his finger and slicked it along his left eyebrow. "Somewhere I can entertain guests. Besides, it kinda cramps my style, having to live with an old guy like you. I mean, not that you're _old_ old, but you're older than me and you're kind of square."

The Skipper listened to all of this with a growing thunderous expression. "I cramp your style?" he growled. "What about me, having to live with a numbskull who still reads comic books?"

"Women like a well-read man," Gilligan asserted, running his hand up and down his throat. "They're turned on by intelligence."

The Skipper rolled his eyes, sat back and folded his big, beefy arms. "Well, you can forget about me not being here when you get back. After what you just told me, I am going to make a _point _of being here when you get back!"

"Okay," Gilligan shrugged. "I guess there's always my cave. I could turn that into a homely dwelling. Chicks might dig the stone-age ambience, and if it scares 'em being in a cave, I'll just snuggle up and put my arms around them." He wagged his eyebrows knowingly at the Skipper in the mirror.

"The only 'chicks' on this island are Ginger and Mary Ann, and the last place either of those sweet girls will want to be is in your cave with you and your wandering hands," the Skipper retorted. "Besides, they're your friends! Shouldn't you be showing them a little more respect?"

"Oh, I have all the respect in the world for Ginger and Mary Ann," Gilligan replied, slicking his hair down with papaya nut tonic. "And I can't wait to show it to 'em!"

"Gilligan!" the Skipper barked. "That's enough. If you want to ask Mary Ann out on a date, there's nothing wrong with that. You're both old enough, and you've liked each other for a long time. But cut out the lounge lizard attitude, or I'll throw you out of this hut on your skinny backside!"

"Relax, Skipper! I'm only having fun. Ginger's a swell broad and all, but Mary Ann is where it's at. Mary Ann is the cream in my coffee." Gilligan turned away from the mirror with the same dreamy expression he'd shown Ginger. "Mary Ann puts the ram in the ramalamadingdong."

The Skipper sat back, shaking his head. "I'm sure there are better ways of putting it, Little Buddy, but I can see by that silly grin of yours that you're serious about Mary Ann, the poor girl. I guess if you really _are_ going to ask her out, I can only give you my blessing."

"Thanks, Skipper," said Gilligan. He picked up his hat, shook it out, and placed it carefully onto his head over his perfectly combed hair. "There's just one more thing I meant to ask you."

"Go ahead, Little Buddy," the Skipper smiled benevolently.

"Does the three date rule still apply?"

"Well, I think it's perfectly acceptable to kiss a girl on the third date, yes," said the Skipper, still smiling.

"I wasn't talking about kissing," said Gilligan.

Ten seconds later, Gilligan was sitting outside the hut where the furious Skipper had thrown him, with his legs splayed out and his backside throbbing. "Gee, Skipper, there was no need to get sore," he whined. Then he clambered to his feet, dusted himself down, and ambled off to find Mary Ann and ask her out.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the lateish update! First my brother came to visit, and then I caught the flu. (I suspect Child Germs from my nieces and nephew!) After that, I was momentarily distracted by a pair of twinkly blue eyes. But everything is back to normal now, so here, belatedly, is chapter 5. :)

* * *

On his way to the Girls' Hut, Gilligan once again encountered the Howells. This time, Mrs. Howell was fiddling with her brooch, looking very distressed, while Mr. Howell was walking slowly back and forth with his eyes glued to the ground. He was obviously looking for something.

"I tell you, Lovey, it's completely disappeared!" the millionaire protested.

"It can't have, Thurston! Keep looking!"

"But, Lovey...!"

"Keep looking, Thurston! I'm not going back to the hut until you find it!"

"Hi, Mrs. Howell," said Gilligan, offering his most gentlemanly smile. "Is there a problem?"

Mr. Howell straightened up rather stiffly. He pressed his hands into his lower back and grimaced. "Mrs. Howell has managed to lose the centerpiece diamond from her antique brooch, but you don't need to worry about it, my boy. We'll find it. It's only a matter of time."

"Nonsense, Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, pouting. "You've been looking for almost an hour and all you've found is a piece of glass and a dirty old bottle cap. There's no harm in letting Gilligan have a try, is there, darling?" She turned to Gilligan and flashed a coquettish smile, which did not go unnoticed by her husband.

"Stand back, Mrs. Howell," Gilligan replied. "I'll have your diamond found in no time, but I'm going to need some room."

As the Howells watched (Mrs. Howell fascinated and Mr. Howell nonplussed), Gilligan licked his finger and raised it in the air. "Wind direction, South-South Westerly," he muttered. He pursed his lips and frowned thoughtfully. Then he stuck his arms straight out to the sides and began turning around and around in circles until the Howells became giddy.

"What _is_ he doing?" Mr. Howell wondered. "Besides making me feel nauseous!"

Gilligan stopped spinning, stuck his right arm straight out in front of him and took twelve large strides forward. He stopped and looked around, then stuck his arm out to the right and took five large strides in that direction. At the edge of the clearing he stooped down and picked something up off the ground.

"Got it!" he announced, holding up a large, twinkling diamond.

"Egads!" cried Mr. Howell. "You're not telling me that ridiculous windmill impression actually worked?"

"Oh, Gilligan!" Mrs. Howell was so happy she was almost dancing on the spot. "It wouldn't have mattered if you'd dressed up like the Watubi witchdoctor. You found my precious diamond!" She reached up with both hands and patted and fondled Gilligan's cheeks until Mr. Howell intervened, inserting himself bodily between the smiling First Mate and his wife.

"No-one likes a show off," he grumbled.

"Oh, poo," Mrs. Howell said. "You're just jealous because Gilligan found my diamond."

"Sheer fluke," Mr. Howell responded. "He must have seen the sun reflecting off it."

"To be precise, Mr. Howell, it was a combination of wind dynamics and Navy know-how," Gilligan replied, tapping the side of his head.

"My foot," Mr. Howell said, folding his arms. "You were lucky, that's all."

"Well, I don't care," Mrs. Howell beamed. "Thanks to Gilligan, I've got my diamond back. Gilligan, you must stop by for tea this evening. I insist on it!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Howell, but I'm afraid I've already got my evening planned." Gilligan smiled apologetically and tipped his hat. "In fact, I'm on my way right now to ask Mary Ann out on a date."

"A date! How marvellous!" Mrs. Howell clasped her hands under her chin as the First Mate bid them farewell. "Thurston, did you hear that? The children are finally getting together!"

"While the rest of us are falling apart," Mr. Howell muttered, glaring indignantly at Gilligan as the boy sauntered off on his way towards the Girls' Hut.

* * *

Mary Ann was busy folding clothes and humming to herself while Ginger stood by the window with the hand mirror, primping her curls. The movie star was in the middle of complaining that the humidity was making her hair frizzy when suddenly she let out a loud groan.

Mary Ann looked up. "Oh, Ginger! There's nothing wrong with your hair!" she smiled, goodnaturedly.

Ginger sighed and pointed out of the window. "No, Mary Ann, look. Here comes the coconut casanova." She put down the hand mirror and headed for the door. "I'm leaving."

Mary Ann glanced out the window and saw Gilligan approaching confidently across the clearing. She smiled to herself as Ginger left the hut and went immediately to the vanity to check her appearance, hoping that Gilligan was coming to see her and that she would get some time alone with him.

Ginger realised that there was no way she could leave the hut without encountering Gilligan. She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her bosom as the First Mate approached with a leery grin. "Whatever you're going to say, say it and get it over with," she told him, sternly.

Gilligan grinned and gave Ginger the usual once-over. "Baby, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put 'U' and 'I' together!"

"Luckily I _don't_ have to rearrange the alphabet to put 'N' and 'O' together," Ginger replied coolly.

Unperturbed, Gilligan sidled closer. "So when's our first lesson, sweet thing?" he crooned.

"_What_ first lesson?" Ginger started backing away at the same rate that Gilligan advanced.

"You know, the first of our many Kissing Lessons." Gilligan pursed his lips and made a series of loud, wet smooching sounds.

Ginger turned her face away in disgust. "How about when hell freezes over?" she muttered.

"Awww, baby, don't play hard to get," Gilligan cajoled. He put his arms out towards her but Ginger sidestepped him expertly.

"I'm not playing hard to get," she snapped. "I'm playing _impossible_ to get!"

Gilligan chuckled and let his hands fall to his sides. "I guess I could take a rain check," he shrugged. "Besides, I really came to see Mary Ann, so you'll just have to sit on the back burner and simmer for a while." He winked lasciviously, and Ginger's eyes widened in indignation.

"Sit on the...?" Ginger spluttered. "_'Simmer for a while'_? Why, you little creep! Go visit Mary Ann! See if I care!" And with that she spun on her heel and stalked off across the clearing, muttering angrily about going to see the Professor.

Inside the hut, Mary Ann had just finished making her pigtails extra perky when there came a soft rapping on the door. _Tappity tap tap._ She took a deep breath and moved away from the vanity into the center of the room.

"Come in!" she said, breathlessly.

The door opened slowly and Gilligan poked his head around it. "Is the most beautiful girl in the world at home?" he asked, in a tone of voice that sent a tingle down Mary Ann's spine.

Mary Ann couldn't stop a huge smile from spreading across her face. "Ginger just left," she said, clasping her hands almost nervously together.

Gilligan came into the hut. He had stopped at a hibiscus bush and plucked the biggest, brightest yellow-orange bloom he could find, and now he presented it to Mary Ann. "Ginger's the second most beautiful girl in the world- but that's really because I don't actually know a lot of girls." He laughed softly, and tucked the hibiscus behind Mary Ann's left ear. "There," he said, turning her towards the mirror. "Now you look like a gorgeous Hawaiian girl."

Mary Ann studied her reflection. The hibiscus nestled behind her ear like a fiery star, its vibrant petals perfectly complemented by the rich chocolate brown of her hair and caramel tan of her skin. Gilligan stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, smiling in genuine admiration. She wished she could have a snapshot of the way they both looked, standing there, gazing at each other in wonder like soulmates reunited after a long, long journey. She wanted to frame it and keep it forever.

"I can't believe I never realised just how beautiful you are," Gilligan mused, gently. "I guess it's like saying ice cream is nice. Sure it's nice, but there's so much more to it than that. It's sweet, and creamy, and it makes your mouth tingle, and..." he stopped, and his eyes met Mary Ann's in the mirror. "Do you know what I'm saying, Mary Ann?"

Mary Ann glanced sideways at his hands resting on her bare shoulders and leaned back ever so gently against him. "I don't know what to say, Gilligan," she whispered.

Gilligan lowered his head and let his nose rest in the fluffy clouds of her hair. "Mary Ann," he murmured, "would you go out with me tonight?"

Mary Ann's stomach filled with butterflies. She stared nervously at Gilligan's reflection. "Tonight?"

"Uh-huh. It's a full moon. And we never did take that walk, did we? The one we were meant to take when I busted my nose."

Mary Ann felt him breathing against her shoulderblades. She bit her lip and looked at the ground. "No, Gilligan, we didn't. I'm sorry about that."

"I always regretted it," he said, softly.

"Me too," Mary Ann admitted.

They were both silent for a while, lost in their individual thoughts about the night that never was. Then Gilligan turned Mary Ann around to face him at last. "So, will you? Go out with me?" he asked, hopefully.

Mary Ann looked up at him and smiled. "Of course I will, Gilligan. I'd love to go out with you!"

Gilligan's face lit up like a beacon. He wound his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Mary Ann! Thank you, thank you! You won't regret it!"

"I know I won't, Sailor Man," she teased, her voice muffled against his chest as she hugged him tightly back. "What time should I be ready?"

"How about I pick you up at eight?" Gilligan straightened the hibiscus that had almost been squashed in the hug. "We can walk along the beach, or we can head up to the cliffs to watch the moon. How does that sound?"

"It sounds wonderful, Gilligan. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too." Gilligan kissed his fingertip and touched it to Mary Ann's nose. "Until tonight," he promised.

* * *

Ginger was back in the Supply Hut, and this time Mr. Howell was with her. The Professor was sitting at the table trying in vain to listen to the radio. He looked from one to the other with a pained expression.

"Professor, did you have that talk with Gilligan yet?" Ginger demanded.

The Professor shook his head. "I haven't had the chance to," he said. "Besides, what has he actually done to displease you, Ginger? May I point out that his clumsily amorous advances are hardly worse than the ones we've all seen you attempt on him?"

Ginger went scarlet. "How could you say that? Whose side are you on? Besides, my 'amorous advances', as you put it, are _never_ clumsy."

Mr. Howell raised his eyebrows and looked away.

"I'm not on anyone's side, Ginger," the Professor said, mildly. "I'm just saying that perhaps Gilligan is giving you a taste of your own medicine, and that's why you don't like it."

Ginger stared at the man of science. "Professor!" she exclaimed. "All I'm asking for is our old, lovable Gilligan back, and I can't believe you won't do anything about it!"

"Yes," said Mr. Howell, "our old, lovable, _clumsy_ Gilligan. I've had quite enough of his chivalrous ways, thank you very much!"

Now it was the Professor's turn to raise his eyebrows. "I think the pair of you are judging Gilligan rather harshly," he said. "As for you, Mr. Howell, since when was it a bad thing to be chivalrous?"

"Since my dear wife Lovey started worshipping the ground that boy walks on," Mr. Howell grumbled.

The Professor shook his head. "I'm afraid the two of you are just going to have to readjust to the new Gilligan. The rest of us are adapting, and I don't see why you shouldn't be the same." He got up from the table just as the weather report came on the radio and began herding the blustering millionaire and indignant movie star towards the door. While he ushered them both outside, their raised voices drowned out the sounds of Friendly Henry announcing that a tropical storm was on the way and would hit their island chain later that night. By the time Ginger and Mr. Howell had been forcibly ejected from the hut, the weather report was over and some cheerful music was playing.

The Professor sighed and switched off the radio, then he slumped over the table and raked his fingers tiredly through his hair.

* * *

Outside, in the clearing, Ginger and Mr. Howell were colluding.

"If the Professor or the Skipper won't do anything about Gilligan, then it's up to us," Ginger whispered.

Mr. Howell hunched his shoulders and leaned towards her with his hands clasped firmly together. "Chicanery is afoot!" he announced, gleefully.

Ginger crooked her finger and led Mr. Howell across the clearing. She stopped under a coconut tree and lowered herself elegantly onto her shapely haunches. On the ground at the foot of the tree lay two large coconuts. Ginger picked them up carefully. Then she rose smoothly to her feet and handed one of the coconuts to Mr. Howell.

"You know the old saying," she smiled.

"Time is money? Money makes the world go round? A fool and his money are soon parted?" Mr. Howell chuckled. "That one is my particular favourite."

Ginger shook her head, waiting patiently until the millionaire had stopped chortling. "If you want a job done well," she smiled, "you've got to do it yourself."


	6. Chapter 6

The humidity seemed to be getting worse as the day went on and the air was thick with moisture. Gilligan stopped under the welcome shade of a mango tree and removed his hat. He wiped his sleeve across his brow and let out a low whoosh of breath. "Sure is hot," he murmured to no-one in particular.

Behind the tree, Thurston Howell III and Ginger Grant were lurking with their coconuts.

"Look at his pointy little head," Mr. Howell whispered.

"The perfect target," Ginger whispered back, clutching her coconut tightly in both hands.

Completely unaware of the two castaways who were conniving behind him, Gilligan leaned against the trunk and closed his eyes for a breather. Ginger raised her coconut aloft and crept around one side of the tree while Mr. Howell raised his coconut and crept around the other. With Gilligan between them, Ginger faced Mr. Howell and began to count silently.

_One..._

_Two..._

_Three!_

The two coconuts began their descent just as Gilligan re-opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed himself away from the tree. Mr. Howell's coconut swung through the air past Ginger's shoulder and Ginger's coconut hit the top of Mr. Howell's head with a hollow _clunk. _

Ginger dropped her coconut and her hand flew to her mouth in horror. "Mr. Howell! Are you all right?" she gasped.

"Sell all my stocks!" the millionaire said, deliriously. "Vote Democrat!"

"Oh dear," Ginger murmured, worriedly. Biting her lip, she picked up her coconut, squeezed her eyes shut, and knocked it sharply against the side of Mr. Howell's head.

"Egads!" he cried, blinking. "I've been bludgeoned!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Howell, it was an accident," Ginger said apologetically. "Gilligan got away and I hit you by mistake." She pointed up the path to where the First Mate's red shirt was just about visible through the trees.

"Well, we'll just have to try again," Mr. Howell muttered, rubbing the side of his head. "But not so _hard_ next time! My poor little cranium!"

Ginger and Mr. Howell made off through the jungle and soon caught up with Gilligan again. The First Mate had stopped, seemingly for no reason, and was standing in the middle of the path with his back to the trees.

"Awfully kind of him to help us out this way," Mr. Howell grinned, creeping as close as he could to the edge of the path without being seen.

"I just hope he realises it's for his own good," Ginger said softly. She joined the millionaire with her coconut raised high in the air and nodded to him.

_One..._

_Two..._

On the count of three, Gilligan suddenly bent down to tie his shoelace. Mr. Howell tumbled forward, carried by momentum, and once again Ginger's coconut whacked him soundly on the top of his head.

Having tied his shoelace, Gilligan got to his feet and ambled off, completely unaware.

"Mr. Howell! I'm so sorry, I did it again!" Ginger reached for the millionaire's shoulders to steady him as he floundered around on decidedly unsteady legs. "Speak to me, Mr. Howell, speak to me!"

"What we need is more affordable housing!" Mr. Howell announced with his eyes rolling around. "Social equality for all!"

Ginger picked up her coconut and hit him again. He blinked and rubbed his head, grimacing at the actress. "What are you trying to do, kill me?" he said with a pout. "A Howell's head is a delicate thing, I'll have you know!"

"He got away again," Ginger shrugged. "I thought my plan was foolproof, but I didn't count on the fool being Gilligan. I've never known a man so slippery!"

"You haven't met my Bank Manager," Mr. Howell chuckled, before wincing again and clutching the top of his head.

At the third attempt to catch Gilligan, Ginger and Mr. Howell came upon the First Mate talking to his monkey friend by the side of the path.

"Hideous little thing, isn't he?" Mr. Howell muttered. "And the monkey's no oil painting either!" He chortled at his own joke, but was quickly hushed by a disapproving frown from Ginger.

As they crept forward, Gilligan's one-sided conversation with the monkey became more audible.

"I sure am looking forward to going out with Mary Ann tonight," he was saying, while the monkey cocked its head and listened intently. "I still can't quite believe she said yes when I asked her on a date. She sure is beautiful, and lovely, and kind, and sweet. I didn't even know I had all these feelings for her until those coconuts hit me. The only way I can describe it, is that I always knew I liked her, but now it's like a whole new dimension has opened up. Now I don't just like her, I _really_ like her. I really, _really_ like her!"

"Such a way with words," Mr. Howell observed.

"Ssh!" said Ginger, putting her finger to her lips and craning her neck to hear more.

"I think I might even be in love with Mary Ann," Gilligan said, quietly.

The monkey chattered and reached its arms up towards Gilligan. He picked it up and cuddled it, rocking it back and forth like a baby.

"I can't do this," Ginger whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "I can't hit Gilligan, not now."

Mr. Howell put down his coconut. "Neither can I," he admitted, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "I don't want to injure that poor, innocent creature. Or Gilligan," he added, pulling out a handkerchief to blow his nose.

Ginger threw her coconut as far into the bushes as she could. She got to her feet and began walking away. After a moment's hesitation, Mr. Howell took one last look at Gilligan cuddling the monkey and followed Ginger back to the huts, leaving his discarded coconut by the side of the path.

* * *

Dinner was over, and Gilligan was getting ready for his date. As he stood in front of the mirror washing his face and combing his hair, the Skipper sat at the table mopping his brow with a dampened towel and pulling his sweat soaked collar away from his neck.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say a storm was coming," he muttered.

"But the Professor hasn't said anything," Gilligan mused, studying his reflection carefully. "And you know how hard he listens to the weather reports."

"That's just it," the Skipper replied. "We're so used to the Professor telling us everything, we've forgotten how to use our own sailor's instincts. And my instincts are telling me there's a storm on the way. This humidity has got to break sometime!"

Gilligan cast a quick look out of the window. "Full moon rising," he declared, "and not a cloud in the sky."

"That's as may be," the Skipper grunted. "But we all know how quickly storms spring up around these parts. Don't we?"

Gilligan caught the inference. "Yeah," he admitted. "We do."

The Skipper watched Gilligan tuck his shirt into his pants and buckle his belt, then button his collar all the way to the top. "Don't you ever get hot?" he asked, incredulously.

"Sure, but I want to look nice, too."

The Skipper chuckled. "You look nice, Gilligan. Mary Ann will be very impressed."

"Thanks, Skipper." Gilligan grinned at the Skipper's reflection and turned away from the mirror at last. "Well," he announced. "I'm all set!"

The Skipper got up from the table. He went over to Gilligan with his arms wide and enfolded him in a bear hug. "You know, I don't say this as often as I should," he murmured, "but I'm proud of you, Little Buddy. You're going on your very first date, with a real, live girl!"

Gilligan smiled and hugged the Skipper back. "Gee, thanks, Skipper, that's real nice of you to say so. And don't worry about any storms. If anything does happen, I know plenty of places Mary Ann and I can shelter."

The Skipper broke the hug with a sigh, and held Gilligan at arm's length. "That's _exactly_ what I'm worried about," he said with a resigned grin.

* * *

Gilligan stood at the door to the Girls' Hut. There was muted light glowing from within- the soft, orange flickering of a candle. He swallowed nervously, removed his hat, and reached out to rap lightly on the wooden door frame. Then he stood back and cleared his throat, and tried to stop the lightheaded feeling that suddenly washed over him.

The door opened at last, and there she was. Mary Ann Summers, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. She had pinned her hair up elegantly, but loose enough so that soft, brown tendrils framed her face and curled enticingly around her slender neck.

"Hi, Gilligan," she smiled, and the candlelight glowed on her soft, pink lips.

Gilligan blinked and stammered a greeting. "Uh...hi, Mary Ann. You look..." he blinked again and twisted his hat nervously between his fingers. "Wow," he finished. "You look wow."

Mary Ann glanced briefly at Gilligan's buttoned up collar and neatly combed hair. "You look pretty wow yourself, Gilligan," she said, shyly.

"I-is that a new dress?" Gilligan went on, as casually as he could.

Mary Ann looked down at the shimmering orange gown she was wearing. It clung to her hips and accentuated her curves without being too revealing. "It's one of Ginger's," she admitted. "I altered it slightly. She has such lovely clothes."

"Oh," Gilligan smiled. "Well, it looks much better on you."

Mary Ann lowered her eyelashes, which were sultry and dark with mascara. "Thank you," she whispered.

Gilligan stood rooted to the spot for a moment, then finally he thrust out an arm towards her. "Where are my manners?" he said. "Shall we get going?"

"Of course," Mary Ann laughed. She turned back inside the hut. "I'm going now, Ginger," she called. "Don't wait up!"

"Don't worry, I won't," came Ginger's voice from inside. "Have a nice time- and tell Romeo to keep his hands to himself on the first date!"

Mary Ann blushed and shut the door firmly behind her. "Ginger didn't mean that," she smiled.

"Didn't mean what?" teased Gilligan. "That I should keep my hands to myself on the first date?"

"Gilligan! I meant, she didn't mean to say it out loud!" Mary Ann giggled, pretending to be shocked. Then she took Gilligan's arm and the two of them headed off towards the beach.

* * *

The full, round moon hung silently in the sky, smiling benignly down on Gilligan and Mary Ann as they strolled along the beach carrying their shoes. The silvery sea shimmered like liquid mercury, and waves with their foamy crests glowing in the moonlight shushed onto the shore and rushed to kiss their feet.

"This is the most perfect date I've ever been on," said Mary Ann, as a cheeky wave tickled her bare toes with cool water.

"Me too," said Gilligan. "Actually, it's pretty much the only date I've ever been on."

"What about that time at the Howells?" Mary Ann teased.

"Was that a date?" Gilligan said, pulling a face.

"Good point," Mary Ann conceded.

"It sure is warm, though. Isn't it?"

"It is," Mary Ann agreed. "It's so humid. My dress is already sticking to me."

"You could always take it off," Gilligan grinned.

Mary Ann leaned towards him and nudged him playfully. "Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Ginger was right, you _are_ a coconut casanova."

Gilligan laughed softly to himself. He squeezed her hand gently. "Skipper thinks the hot weather means there's a storm coming," he said.

Mary Ann kicked a toeful of wet sand into the air. "Wouldn't the Professor have said something? Mind you, it is awfully still. The trees aren't even moving."

"I might take my shirt off if it gets any hotter," Gilligan told her. "I might even go skinny dipping." He glanced down at Mary Ann to wait for her reaction, then winked.

"William Gilligan!" she cried, then burst out laughing. "When did you get so bold?"

"When two coconuts fell out of a tree and woke me up to what I've been missing," Gilligan replied. He dropped his shoes and reached for Mary Ann as if to tickle her.

Mary Ann squealed and ran away up the beach, dropping her own shoes. Gilligan soon caught up with her, but she darted this way and that, kicking up sand, always eluding him at the last second. Finally he had to give up.

"How come you're so fast?" he complained, breathless with laughter.

"My cousins were always trying to tickle me," Mary Ann replied, equally breathless and laughing. "I learned very quickly how to get away."

Shaking his head in defeat, Gilligan reached for Mary Ann's hand. They collected their shoes and started walking down the beach again, swinging each other's arms and singing out of tune, oblivious to the large bank of dark clouds that was already looming on the other side of the island.

* * *

In the Supply Hut, the Skipper was complaining about the heat to the Professor when the late weather report came on the radio. Immediately the Professor held up his hand.

"I missed this earlier, thanks to Ginger and Mr. Howell," he said. He turned up the volume and both men cocked their ears towards the radio. As the tropical weather front warning became clear, the Professor groaned out loud.

"We should have paid more attention to the signs," he admitted, switching off the radio when the report was done. "Thankfully it sounds like it's just a thunderstorm and not a cyclone."

"Except that Gilligan and Mary Ann are out there somewhere." The Skipper cast a concerned look out of the window. "My only consolation is that I said to Gilligan before he left that I thought the humidity meant bad weather was on its way, so he won't be completely unprepared."

The Professor put his hand on the Skipper's shoulder. "They'll be all right," he said. "Gilligan knows this island like the back of his hand."

The Skipper turned to the Professor with a look of consternation. "I'm more worried about him knowing _Mary Ann _like the back of his hand," he muttered.

* * *

Gilligan and Mary Ann had been walking hand in hand along the beach for almost half an hour when they finally turned inland and noticed the ragged front of storm clouds rearing high up over the cliffs.

"Whoops," said Gilligan. "Looks like Skipper was right."

"I really don't like the look of those," said Mary Ann, holding tightly to Gilligan's hand.

Just as she spoke, the clouds went over the moon and the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

"Have we got time to get back to the huts?" Mary Ann cried as the raindrops landed on her face and neck and splatted onto the sand in dozens, then hundreds, then finally thousands of tiny craters.

"We're closer to the caves!" Gilligan shouted as the rain smacked down onto the broad leaves of some nearby banana trees. He clutched Mary Ann's hand and ran along the jungle path, pulling her close to try and stop her from getting wet, but in just moments the rain was lashing down and by the time they reached Gilligan's cave they were both soaked through to the skin.

Just then a fork of brilliant white lightning tore the air with a mighty crack, lighting up the whole sky. Mary Ann shrieked, and without being told, got down on her hands and knees and scuttled through the cave's tiny opening. As the resulting growl of thunder boomed through the clouds, Gilligan got down on his hands and knees and crawled quickly into the cave behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Mary Ann stood up in the dark confines of the cave as Gilligan crawled in right behind her. As he clambered to his feet, a stutter of lightning showed the look of sadness on his face.

"I'm sorry, Mary Ann," he said, ruefully. "I wanted so much for this night to be perfect. But I guess it wouldn't be me if something didn't go wrong, huh?"

Mary Ann shook her head fondly. "Don't be hard on yourself, Gilligan. We've been caught unawares before. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that bad timing seems to be a feature of the weather on this island."

As if in agreement, lightning strobed the inside of the cave and thunder roared like a beast with a sore throat. The rain continued to pour down into the jungle, pattering onto leaves and dripping off the trees, running in muddy rivers past the mouth of the cave.

"We sure are soaked," Gilligan said. "I couldn't get any wetter if I fell into the lagoon."

"Look at it this way," Mary Ann replied. "We wanted it to get cooler, and we needed the water."

"Yeah- in the tank, not all over ourselves!" The next flash of lightning showed that Gilligan's expression had brightened. "Never mind, Mary Ann, all is not lost," he said, cheerfully. "I do have some things that should make our stay here more comfortable." He moved through the intermittent darkness into the corner of the cave and rustled around, looking for something. "Should be here somewhere...ah-ha! Got it." A few moments later Mary Ann heard the striking of a match and the warm, orange glow from a stubby little candle filled the cave.

Gilligan turned towards Mary Ann and blew out the match with a flourish. "Emergency supplies," he grinned. "The Skipper doesn't even know his candle is missing. I also have a couple of blankets, and a pillow, and I even still have Mrs. Howell's money blanket."

Mary Ann blushed in the soft light of the candle.

Gilligan chuckled. "I meant, I keep those things for when I come out here to be by myself. In my home away from home."

Mary Ann smiled and looked up at him through mascaraed eyelashes. "I know what you meant," she said, shyly.

Gilligan coughed and cleared his throat, then turned back to his little pile of supplies. Water dripped from the brim of his hat in a steady stream and cascaded from his shirt sleeves onto the floor of the cave. "I, um...don't know what we're gonna do about our wet clothes," he said quietly. "I mean, you know, we should..."

Gilligan hesitated and looked over at Mary Ann, at the shimmering orange gown that clung wetly to every contour of her petite, slender body. His eyes took in the rounded curve of her hips and the gentle swell of her breasts, where the altered neckline of the dress showed just a subtle hint of cleavage. He watched a trickle of water run down into that secret valley, then his eyes lifted slowly to her face, where thick strands of wet hair lay plastered to her cheeks and neck and dark mascara smudged her eyelids, making her eyes look bruised and sultry. "We shouldn't sit around in wet clothes, it increases the risk of hypo...hypo...um, yeah," he finished, lamely.

The lightning flashed and Mary Ann jumped, startled. Thunder swiftly followed, signalling that the storm was practically over their heads. "What should we do?" she said, biting the tip of her thumb nervously.

Gilligan removed his hat and wrung it out, then shook it violently to remove all the excess water. "We should take them off," he said, quietly. "Although I know how that sounds, and I really don't mean it that way. All I mean is, we shouldn't sit around in wet clothes. That's one thing I learned in the Navy."

Mary Ann smiled and wiped a trickle of rainwater from the corner of her eye. "I believe you," she giggled. "Even though I don't think Ginger would."

Gilligan laughed too, with audible relief. "Here, take this," he said, handing Mary Ann a blanket. "I'll turn around and promise not to look."

Gilligan stood with his back turned, purposely whistling and looking up at the ceiling while Mary Ann carefully peeled off the wet dress. When he turned around again, she was wrapped from neck to toe in the thick brown blanket, holding the dripping garment out towards him. "What should I do with this?" she asked, innocently.

Gilligan swallowed hard as he reached out and took the dress from her hand. "I'll spread it out on that rock over there," he gulped. "Maybe it'll dry off by the morning. I mean, it's so small, it should..." He swallowed again, looking from the dress to Mary Ann wrapped in the blanket and back to the dress again, then finally he went over to the corner of the cave and draped the dress haphazardly over a small boulder to dry it off.

"Now it's your turn," Mary Ann instructed, when he returned to stand in front of her.

Gilligan dutifully began to pull his shirt out of his waistband, until he saw that Mary Ann was still watching, clutching the blanket around her like a shield. "Aren't you gonna turn around?" he asked, curiously.

"Do you want me to?"

Gilligan's face broke into a lopsided smile. "When did _you_ get so bold?" he teased, gently.

"When I realised I was trapped in a cave with the boy..." Mary Ann stopped and Gilligan raised his eyebrows.

"With the boy I've always liked," she finished, equally lamely.

"In that case," Gilligan said, returning to his smooth self, "I have no objections to you watching."

In the muted glow of the candle, and backlit by frequent flashes of lightning, Gilligan freed his shirt from his waistband and slowly pulled it up and over his head. Now it was Mary Ann's turn to take in the slender contours of his body, tracing the lean muscles of his shoulders and torso, smiling at his little patch of chest hair and letting her gaze linger on his nicely rounded backside as he turned and laid the wet garment out to dry.

He came back to stand in front of her and raked his fingers through his wet hair, then his hands lowered to hover at his belt buckle. "Okay," he smiled. "We're going to have to draw the line somewhere. I told the Skipper I'd be a perfect gentleman."

"You also told me this date would be fun," Mary Ann said, in a tone of voice that said 'I dare you'.

Gilligan slowly began unbuckling his belt. Mary Ann's gaze stayed riveted to his hands, watching every movement of his fingers as he pulled the belt loose from its clasp. Then right at the last minute she tore her eyes away and turned around to face the cave wall, giggling through her hand. "I can't," she admitted.

"That's a pity," Gilligan responded, "because I would have."

"I know!" she laughed. "That's why I can't!"

Gilligan set about removing his pants while Mary Ann faced the wall. He took them across the cave and hung them over another rock, laughing softly to himself. "What a date this has turned out to be," he chuckled, standing in the middle of the cave clad only in his boxer shorts. "Now you're more dressed than I am!"

"Is it safe to look?" Mary Ann giggled.

"If you want to see the boy you've always liked shivering in his shorts, sure you can look," Gilligan replied, casually.

Mary Ann turned around and fixed him with a look of pure sympathy. "Oh, Gilligan, look at you," she said, trying hard not to laugh. "Wrap yourself in the other blanket before you catch your death of cold!"

"Yes, ma'am," Gilligan grinned, and did as he was told.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Professor, this is all my fault," Ginger said, forlornly.

When the storm began, all of the other castaways had flocked to the Supply Hut to shelter together in the comfort of each other's company. When the Professor told Ginger that he had missed the first storm warning because she and Mr. Howell were too busy complaining about Gilligan, Ginger's heart sank and she knew she had once again put her own needs before the rest of the group. Now she stood off to one corner, hugging her arms tightly around her middle, a defensive gesture that she adopted when she knew she had done wrong.

"I'm sorry too, Ginger," the Professor admitted while the storm raged outside. "I didn't take you as seriously as I should have done. You had every right to voice your opinion on Gilligan's changed behaviour, and I should have listened."

Ginger smiled wryly. "You were right about me getting a taste of my own medicine. After all, I tease Gilligan all the time, knowing full well he doesn't enjoy it." She glanced out of the window, wincing at a sudden burst of lightning that made the trees look like old men huddled together under the onslaught of rain. "Besides, after what Mr. Howell and I heard today, it seems Gilligan thinks he's in love with Mary Ann, and I can't help feeling worried about her. She could so easily get her heart broken by all of this."

"We don't know that," the Professor said, gently. "Mary Ann might be young, but she's not completely naïve. She's had a solid, no-nonsense upbringing, she doesn't suffer fools, and we all know she's always liked Gilligan. But your feelings of protectiveness are admirable, Ginger, and your concerns for Mary Ann far outweigh any concerns for yourself. So please, don't keep blaming yourself for what's happened."

The sky exploded like Fourth of July fireworks as lightning bounced around inside the storm, stunning the castaways with a brilliant display of purple, white and fiery orange which lit the roiling clouds from within.

"I'm even more concerned for her now," Ginger said, covering her ears as thunder cracked and rumbled loudly. "I'm concerned for _both_ of them. I just hope they're all right!"

* * *

Gilligan and Mary Ann sat shoulder to shoulder with their backs against the cave wall, wrapped up tight and warm in their respective blankets. The flickering candle cast uneven shadows that leapt and danced around the cave like mischievous sprites, while outside, the storm raged on.

"How come girls paint their toenails?" Gilligan asked, tapping the side of her small, tan foot with his bigger, clumsier one.

Mary Ann lifted her leg and stretched out her foot. Her slender calf muscles tautened and her red toenails gleamed in the candlelight. "To make them look pretty," she smiled. "Don't you think they look pretty?"

"I think they look pretty with or without the paint," Gilligan said, openly admiring her leg. "Like I think your eyes are pretty with or without all that black stuff." He reached up with his thumb and wiped away a smudge of mascara from her cheekbone.

"It's called mascara, Gilligan, and we wear it to make ourselves look attractive," Mary Ann teased. "Surely you knew that, even before you got hit on the head."

Gilligan shrugged. "I never saw the need for it, and I still don't."

"Yet when you saw me earlier, your jaw hit the floor and your eyes nearly fell out of your head."

Gilligan fell silent, thinking about what she had said. Then he chuckled deep in his throat, a sound that made Mary Ann feel suddenly giddy.

"It's true you looked a knockout in that dress, but you look just as gorgeous in that old blanket," he said, and leaned in close enough so that his mouth was just inches from her ear. "Especially as it's the blanket that used to be in my bunk on the _Minnow_."

"Careful, Casanova," Mary Ann murmured, as a shiver of warmth slid down her spine. "Your colours are starting to show."

Gilligan stayed close, with his mouth next to her ear. "Don't you like my new colours?" he teased, gently. "I like them- although I think they might be a little too strong for Ginger."

"I think it's awful the way you've been behaving with Ginger," Mary Ann giggled, although it was plain from the look on her face that she didn't think it was awful at all. "The poor thing doesn't know what to do!"

"It's about time someone did it back to her." Gilligan's breath drifted over Mary Ann's cheek like a warm feather. "I asked her for kissing lessons," he chuckled. "I was only joking, but she wasn't too happy."

"Kissing lessons?" Mary Ann squeaked. "What for?"

Gilligan's lips brushed against Mary Ann's earlobe. "So that I would know what to do. You know. Tonight. That is...if it came to that. With us."

Mary Ann closed her eyes and shivered, but not because it was cold. "Were you expecting it to...come to that?" she whispered.

"I was thinking it would be nice," Gilligan smiled. "If it came to that."

Mary Ann tilted her head over so that Gilligan had better access to her neck. "Something tells me you don't need kissing lessons," she uttered as his lips touched the tender skin of her throat.

"Not from Ginger, anyway." Gilligan began kissing her neck softly- once, twice, then three times. "Tell me if I'm moving too fast," he said, pulling back to gauge her expression.

Mary Ann turned to face him full on, looking at him through smoky eyes full of desire. "Not fast enough," she said, huskily.

Gilligan searched her face inquisitively. "You mean that?" he asked, lifting his fingers to her face. "Because this is all new to me, and I don't want to do anything I shouldn't."

"I mean it," Mary Ann nodded, closing her eyes at his featherlight touch. "I want you to kiss me, Gilligan. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

As the lightning flashed and the thunder roared and a stormy breeze crept in and sent the candle flame dancing, Mary Ann and Gilligan leaned towards each other and kissed, and under their blankets their arms and hands reached out towards each other, fumbling their way out of the rough brown cloth and onto new uncharted territory.

Gilligan's mouth was hungry, his lips eager and searching. "Mary Ann," he murmured, in between kisses that set her aflame with longing. "Mary Ann...is it too soon to say I love you?"

"After three and a half years?" Mary Ann answered, lost in overwhelming rapture as their kisses intensified and their fumbling explorations of each other's bodies became more urgent. "I'd say it was about time!"

Gilligan pulled back and grinned at her. His thick, dark hair flopped across his forehead and desire burned in his eyes like twin blue flames. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long," he said, and before she had time to answer he was kissing her again, deeply, and his hands were inside her blanket, caressing her all over.

Gilligan's new urges scared and thrilled Mary Ann in equal measure. She had waited a long time for the First Mate to show his feelings, but she had never expected it would be anything as wildly exciting as this. Each touch of his hands in an unexpected place set her nerve ends jangling and each flash of lightning corresponded with a surge of electricity through her own body, until she didn't know whether the storm was raging inside or outside the cave. The blankets finally fell from their shoulders and pooled around their waists. Gilligan's hands cupped Mary Ann's breasts and she sighed into his mouth, knowing she was almost at the point of no return.

"I've never known anything like this," Gilligan whispered. "Never in my whole life has anything felt this good."

"Not even chocolate covered hamburgers?" Mary Ann whispered back, arching her back and pressing herself into his hands.

"They don't even come close," he admitted. "All I want is to be with you."

Thunder boomed and Mary Ann pulled Gilligan's head down into the soft curve of her neck. "Oh, Gilligan, you don't know how happy I am," she sighed, blissfully.

"Half as happy as me?" Gilligan murmured, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair.

"Twice as happy as you."

"I don't think that's possible."

"We'll see about that."

And as the howling storm swept over the island and the rain lashed the huts in which the other castaways sheltered, Mary Ann went willingly into Gilligan's arms among the dancing shadows in the cave until his hands and his mouth and the heat of his touch were all that mattered in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Huge** apologies for the delay in uploading this chapter. It won't happen again, that's a promise!

* * *

All night the storm vented its fury on the small uncharted island, whipping the trees into a frenzy and churning the sea into a mass of frothy spume. The parched ground opened its throat and drank greedily of the rain while the animals crouched in whatever shelter they could find, their fur and feathers dripping.

And then, almost like a light going out at dawn, it all stopped. The wind died and the rain slowed to a steady trickle and the fury of the storm diminished to the soft purrings of a kitten.

The ragged, spent thunderheads moved off over the horizon and the sun took their place, and steam began to rise from the ground as it cast its morning rays across the fields and hills.

The castaways awoke to the peaceful sounds of birdsong and the gentle dripping of raindrops on the Supply Hut roof. Ginger opened her eyes and realised she had fallen asleep on the Professor's shoulder, sitting next to him on his bunk against the wall. She yawned and smiled and pretended she was still asleep, and snuggled closer. He mumbled as he too began waking up, but he didn't stir, and he didn't attempt to move her away.

The Skipper yawned and stretched and got to his feet. He opened the window and peered out at the island and was immediately dazzled by what he saw. It was as though everything had sprung to life in the night- green shoots were already sprouting, plants that had grown limp in the heat were standing tall and proud, gleaming wetly in the morning light. The smell of damp earth hit his nostrils and everything looked green, fertile and splendid- washed clean and renewed.

The island certainly looked beautiful, but there was only one thing nagging at the Skipper's heart. "I sure hope Mary Ann and my little buddy survived the storm," he murmured to no-one in particular.

* * *

It was the silence that eventually awoke Mary Ann. No longer was the thunder rumbling and growling or the lightning throwing brittle shards of electric light into the cave long after the candle had sputtered out. No longer was the cavern filled with noise- the angry howls of nature and the impassioned cries of two young people lost in a hot tangle of arms and legs. Now there was just water pattering onto palm leaves and a gentle warmth that stole into the cave and enveloped her body like a soft caress.

Mary Ann opened her eyes slowly, just in case it had all been a dream. But no, here he was in her arms, her Sailor Man, seemingly still deep in his well-earned slumber, the blanket draped loosely over his waist. She smiled to herself and flexed her fingers against his chest.

Well-earned, indeed.

His hand moved to her fingers and closed over them. "That tickles," he murmured, groggily.

"Well, good morning, Romeo," Mary Ann giggled. "I didn't think you were awake."

Gilligan stroked her arm gently. "Been drifting in and out," he smiled. "Still can't believe we...you know."

Mary Ann buried her burning face in his chest. "I know. Me too."

"That was my first time," Gilligan confessed.

"Mine too," Mary Ann admitted.

They fell into an awed silence, each contemplating what the other had said, realising the significance of it. Then Gilligan began to chuckle. His whole body reverberated with the sound of his muffled laughter.

"What is it?" Mary Ann asked, curiously. She rose up onto his chest and studied his shining blue-green eyes.

"Nothing," he giggled. "Just that Skipper is gonna kill me, after I promised to be good."

"But you _were_ good," Mary Ann smiled. "In fact, you were _very _good."

Gilligan raised his head from the pillow and looked at her then, and the chuckles died in his throat. "I was?" he asked, tentatively.

"Yes you were," Mary Ann said shyly, stroking his untidy bangs. "You took all my fears away and gave me something I'll remember for the rest of my life."

Gilligan's face lit up. The look of delight that spread across his features made Mary Ann's heart soar like a bird. "You did that for me too, Mary Ann," he said. "You're the most perfect, beautiful woman I've ever known."

Mary Ann raised herself over him and kissed him softly on the lips. "Whatever happens, we'll always have this night to remember," she said. "Won't we, Gilligan?"

"We will," Gilligan replied, lovingly stroking the hair away from her face. "Whatever happens, this night will always be ours- and I will always be yours, for as long as you want me."

Mary Ann sighed and pulled him into her arms. "Oh, Gilligan, you're _wonderful_!" she laughed.

They rolled over on the blankets until Gilligan was on top and Mary Ann was underneath. He rubbed his nose against hers and tickled her face with his hair.

"I love you, Mary Ann," he said.

"I love you too, Gilligan," she whispered.

* * *

Gilligan and Mary Ann went back to camp hand in hand wearing their still-damp clothes which clung to their bodies in messy, disorganized creases. Gilligan's hat sat on his head at a rakish angle and Mary Ann tottered rather unsteadily over the wet, spongy ground in muddy high heels, her careful hairstyle completely dishevelled and her mascara caked eyes giving her the look of a startled panda. When the other castaways saw them, they burst into spontaneous applause which made the two youngest castaways blush crimson until they realised the standing ovation was just because the others were happy to see them, and not because they were cheering the events that had happened during the night.

"Little Buddy! You're safe!" the Skipper cried, throwing his hat in the air.

"Sure, Skipper! I told you I knew plenty of hiding places," said Gilligan, smiling a little smugly.

"That was one doozy of a storm though, wasn't it?" Skipper said, clapping Gilligan on the shoulder.

"Can't say I noticed," Gilligan replied, his smile broadening.

The Skipper's mouth fell open. He started to say something but was distracted by the pink tinge that had crept into Mary Ann's cheeks. He stared at Gilligan, then back at Mary Ann, who was now hiding her face in Gilligan's shoulder. He turned to the Professor with a look of wide-eyed astonishment. The Professor cleared his throat and stroked his chin, looking off into the trees and pretending to be thinking about something else entirely.

"Oh, Mary Ann! I'm so glad you're both safe!" Ginger said with relief, clasping her hands under her chin. "I'm so awfully sorry I made everyone miss the weather reports!"

Gilligan waved his hand dismissively. "It's okay, Ginger, it doesn't matter. In fact, you could say you did us a favour." And then he fixed Ginger with a wide smirk and winked, blatantly.

Ginger arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows and her emerald green eyes opened like saucers. "Gilligan!" she scolded. "I hope you were the perfect gentleman!"

"Oh, he was," Mary Ann interjected, nestling into Gilligan's side and smiling at Ginger like the happiest girl in the world. "He _was_!"

Stunned into speechlessness, Ginger mirrored Mary Ann's actions and nestled into the Professor's side without even realising what she was doing. The Professor stopped stroking his chin and went bright red. His arm hovered behind Ginger as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

Gilligan began looking expectantly from castaway to castaway, patting his stomach. "When's breakfast?" he asked, loudly. "I sure am _famished_!"

As the castaways muttered amongst themselves and began to disperse, the Skipper crooked his finger at Gilligan. "I'd like a word with you, Little Buddy," he said, sternly.

Gilligan disengaged himself from Mary Ann's arms and kissed her gently on her forehead. "See you soon, buttercup," he whispered.

"Try and make it sooner, Sailor Man," she murmured, closing her eyes as his lips brushed her skin.

Gilligan turned away from Mary Ann, gave a loud, deliberate sigh and followed the Skipper towards their hut. The Skipper was already gearing up for a lecture, swinging his arms and puffing up his chest. Gilligan pasted on his most benign smile- over the years he had become adept at looking as if he was listening to the Skipper while his mind was elsewhere. This time his thoughts were filled with delightful memories of Mary Ann's skin glowing like caramel in the soft light of the candle, her expression of ecstacy caught in a flash of lightning like a photograph imprinted permanently on his brain. The Skipper's mouth was moving but all Gilligan could hear was Mary Ann's soft cooing, her warm, gentle sighs of contentment, her breathless pleas for him not to stop.

_Don't stop, Gilligan- don't ever stop._

The Skipper was standing outside the hut doorway, giving Gilligan a piece of his mind. Neither he nor the daydreaming First Mate noticed that they were directly beneath a coconut tree and that the coconuts high above them had become loosened in the storm. Not until the first coconut broke free, tumbled through the air and bounced squarely off the top of Gilligan's head.

The First Mate blinked and swayed slightly.

"What the-?" the Skipper looked up, just in time to see the second coconut descending. "Gilligan! Look out!"

The First Mate was just regaining his feet when the second coconut struck, hitting him with a hollow _clonk._

"_Gilligan_!" the Skipper yelled, rushing towards his little buddy. "Gilligan! Are you all right?"

"Look at all the pretty little birdies!" Gilligan babbled in a sing-song lilt, before once again collapsing in an unconscious heap into the Skipper's waiting arms.


	9. Chapter 9

An uneasy feeling of deja vu settled over the Skipper and Gilligan's hut as the castaways gathered around Gilligan's hammock where the unconscious First Mate lay breathing softly. Once again Mary Ann found herself mopping his brow with a moistened cloth while Ginger stood beside her, wanting to help but not sure how. The Skipper paced up and down the room, fretting and blaming himself, and the Howells stood together as they always did when they needed to gain strength from each other.

Mrs. Howell lifted her gloved hand to her mouth and choked back a small sob. "That poor boy! Twice in as many days!"

Ginger's eyes met Mr. Howell's. Guilt made them both look away quickly.

Gilligan breathed on, his expression gentle in repose. If not for the egg sized lump forming under his hair, he looked just as if he were taking a nap. Mary Ann wiped the cloth gently over his smooth forehead and tried hard not to let the tears spill down her cheeks.

"Wake up, Sailor Man," she whispered, tracing the dark lines of his eyebrows with the cloth. "Wake up and I'll make you the biggest coconut crème pie pie you've ever seen in your life."

The Professor came running into the hut with the bottle of smelling salts. Mary Ann stood aside to let him hold it under Gilligan's nose and everyone leaned forward in anticipation as if they were on the deck of a rolling ship.

"Come on, Little Buddy," the Skipper urged.

Gilligan shuddered. He scrunched up his face and turned his head on the pillow. "Ugh," he complained.

"Oh, Gilligan!" Mary Ann lifted her hands to her mouth and finally let the tears fall.

"It's working!" The Skipper said, almost breathlessly.

The Professor removed the bottle from under Gilligan's nose and replaced the cork. "Smelling salts are extremely effective and have been around since Roman times," he lectured. "The irritant effect of the acrid gases produced by ammonia and eucalyptus oil activate the sympathetic system, leading to elevated heart rate, blood pressure and brain activity, and eventually, reversal of the unconscious state."

The castaways looked at each other in confusion while the Professor waited expectantly for a response.

"They stink, too!" whined Gilligan, rubbing his nose.

The Professor smiled. "Similar action can be produced by cheek slapping, if you'd prefer that."

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Gilligan mumbled, struggling to sit up.

"Oh, Gilligan, how do you feel?" Mary Ann moved in close again and put her hand gently on Gilligan's arm.

"Like my head is the deck of an aircraft carrier," Gilligan muttered, feeling under his hat for the big lump that was forming there.

"Do you recognise everyone in the room?" asked the Professor, as Mary Ann fussed over the First Mate, her eyes gleaming wetly with tears.

Gilligan looked at him suspiciously. "Haven't you asked me that before?"

"Yes," the Professor replied. "I asked you after the _first_ time you got hit on the head. Do you remember that?"

Gilligan's brow furrowed while everyone held their breath. "Yeah," he said eventually. "I remember. I think."

"Little Buddy, you _do_ know who we are, don't you?" Skipper asked worriedly, crowding in between Mary Ann and the Professor.

"Sure," said Gilligan. He began counting heads around the room. "Skipper, Professor, Mr. Howell, Mrs. Howell, Ginger, and Mary Ann."

Ginger and Mary Ann exchanged a glance. Mary Ann bit the inside of her lip.

"Just Ginger and Mary Ann?" asked Ginger.

"Okay," Gilligan shrugged. "Ginger Grant and Mary Ann Summers, if you wanna be formal about it."

Ginger pursed her lips. "No, '_hello there beautiful_'? No, '_Mary Ann, you're looking winsome and delightful as ever_?'"

Gilligan stared at the movie star as though she'd gone mad. "Did Ginger get hit on the head, too?" he asked the Professor in a stage-whisper, circling his index finger next to his ear.

Mary Ann gulped down a sob while the others shifted uncomfortably on their feet.

"Why's everyone looking at me funny?" Gilligan complained. "What did I do now?"

"Nothing, Little Buddy," the Skipper said, patting Gilligan on the shoulder. "We're just glad that you're all right, that's all."

"I'm fine, Skipper," Gilligan replied, cheerfully. "Apart from a sore head, I feel fine."

Mary Ann stared at the First Mate, but his expression had become unreadable. Eventually the castaways began to disperse, shuffling awkwardly towards the door. The Howells left quickly, with Mrs. Howell looking pale and fraught. The Professor followed, his handsome brow creased in a frown. Finally Ginger and Mary Ann headed for the door, leaving the Skipper behind with Gilligan.

Just as Mary Ann got to the door, Gilligan's voice made her stop and turn around.

"Mary Ann?"

Mary Ann blinked back a tear and smiled brightly, hopefully. "Yes, Gilligan?"

"That's _two_ pies you owe me," Gilligan grinned. "And you thought I'd forgotten, huh?"

Mary Ann's wrenching sob was loud enough for all three of the remaining castaways to hear. "I'll get baking right away, Gilligan," she uttered, and left the hut before anyone could see the tears cascading from her eyes like the rain that had fallen in the night.

Ginger stood speechlessly inside the door for a moment or two more, then shook her head sternly at Gilligan and ran out after her friend.

Only the Skipper remained to see the guilty look that flashed across Gilligan's face as he watched through the window at Mary Ann running across the clearing with Ginger in hot pursuit.

* * *

There seemed to be nothing Ginger could do to cheer up her friend. She sat on Mary Ann's bed and watched helplessly as the farm girl drenched the pillow in tears.

"You were right all along, Ginger. It _was_ just a concussion. He _did_ forget. Oh, how could I have been so careless? How could I have let myself fall for every word?"

"Sssh," soothed Ginger, stroking Mary Ann's hair. "There's still a chance that he'll remember everything once he's fully recovered."

Mary Ann's choking sobs tore at Ginger's heart. "It was so special, Ginger. What we shared last night in the cave...it was the most wonderful night of my life."

Ginger pulled her friend into a hug and stroked her heaving shoulders. "It's all right, Mary Ann," she murmured. "It's all right."

"It's not all right," Mary Ann cried. "Not if he doesn't remember." She raised her head and looked at Ginger with wide, imploring eyes. "He said he loved me. Last night. I know he meant it. There's no way he could forget what happened in that cave. It was just too special. For both of us."

Ginger sighed. "Would I be right in thinking that...?" she left the sentence unfinished but raised her eyebrows knowingly.

Mary Ann nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "And I'm not ashamed of it, either!" she added, defiantly.

"No-one said you should be," Ginger smiled. "When it's right, it's right."

"Oh Ginger," Mary Ann sobbed. "It was so right." She threw herself onto the bed again and buried her face in the pillow. "I love him so much. I can't bear it!"

Ginger stood up and smoothed down her dress. "That does it," she said, firmly.

"Where are you going?" Mary Ann lifted her head from the pillow and wiped fresh tears from her eyes as the movie star headed regally for the door.

"To have a little word with Mister Gilligan," Ginger replied, and left the hut with a flamboyant toss of her flame red tresses.

* * *

"Why did you let poor Mary Ann leave the hut like that?" Skipper rumbled, crossly. He had resumed pacing around the room while Gilligan stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself. "Why didn't you tell her you remembered everything?"

Gilligan's eyes darted sideways, looking over his reflection's shoulder at the Skipper. "I was too scared," he confessed. "I saw that look in her eyes and I knew she wanted more from me than I can give her."

The Skipper sighed. He took off his cap and ran his hand through his graying blond hair. "You don't know that," he said, gruffly. "You don't know what she wants from you."

"I do," Gilligan said. "And it's more than I can give her."

"Look," Skipper said. He came over and stood next to Gilligan with his arms folded. "The first time you got hit, you turned into a confident ladies' man. Some might say 'overly confident'. But you still remembered who you were before. Why can't you do that now?"

"You don't understand," Gilligan responded, looking glumly at himself in the mirror. "It's not that easy."

"So what are you going to do? Just pretend nothing happened and hope that Mary Ann forgets?"

Gilligan shrugged. "Maybe," he said, but he didn't look that convinced.

Skipper shook his head sadly. "Little Buddy, you can't undo what's been done any more than you can flap your arms and fly to the moon. What happened between you and Mary Ann last night- and I think I have a good enough idea- it's not likely to be something she'll ever forget."

Gilligan sighed. His shoulders slumped. "You're right, Skipper," he admitted. "It's not something I'll ever forget, either."

The Skipper met the First Mate's eyes in the mirror. "Things that change our lives are always scary," he said, gently. "Our first day of school. The day we leave home. When someone we care about dies. And the day we fall in love. In fact..." he took off his hat again and wiped his brow with his forearm,"...falling in love is one of the most scary things of all. The biggest thing we're frightened of is whether they'll love us back."

The corners of Gilligan's mouth turned down. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Little Buddy, I know one or two things about women, and the way Mary Ann looked at you before she left the hut, I'd say you have nothing to worry about. But you will, if you don't go and make amends as soon as you can!"

Gilligan was about to say something in reply, when the door opened abruptly and Ginger re-appeared, her face set in a look of grim determination.

The Skipper pushed himself away from the wall. "Speaking of remembering, I just remembered something that I have to do!" he blustered. As he left the hut past Ginger, he leaned close to the movie star and whispered, "he knows. Just be gentle with him, all right?"

"You have nothing to worry about," Ginger smiled. "Just leave him to me."

* * *

"So," said Ginger, settling herself against the wall with her arms folded loosely across her stomach. "What happened to Loverboy?"

"He's gone," Gilligan said, forlornly. "Now I'm just stupid old Gilligan again."

Ginger made a show of casting her eyes around the room. "I don't see any '_stupid old Gilligan_'," she smiled.

"Look right here," Gilligan said, pointing in the mirror.

"I don't see any '_stupid old Gilligan_' there, either."

"Well, I feel pretty stupid," Gilligan sighed.

Ginger stood behind Gilligan and they both looked at each other's reflections for a while. "Gilligan, listen to me," said Ginger. "You don't look stupid, and you shouldn't feel stupid. The only person holding you back is yourself."

"I'm no great catch," Gilligan mumbled.

"You're a better catch than you think," Ginger replied. "One, you're cute. Two, you're kind. Three, you're a gentleman. Four, you're a complete mystery, and that's always an attractive quality. Five, you're funny, and charming, and wonderful with animals, and..."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Gilligan said. "You think I'm okay."

"You're more than okay," Ginger grinned. "You're pretty much perfect for who you are."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You bet your sweet bippy, mister."

Gilligan shook his head at Ginger in the mirror, and then laughed, in spite of himself.

"She loves you, you know," Ginger said eventually.

"So she told me," Gilligan replied, softly.

"You don't believe her?"

"I believed her last night. But last night was different. _I _was different."

Ginger laughed, a delicate, musical sound that ruffled the short hairs at the back of Gilligan's neck. "You certainly were," she smiled. "And then again, you weren't any different at all. You were still you. Still Gilligan. Only Gilligan with added extras."

"That's just it," Gilligan said, forlornly. "It's the added extras she loves. Not this dumb guy in the mirror who never does anything right."

"Really?" Ginger teased. "If you can love right, then you don't need anything else. Love makes you ten feet tall." She tugged playfully at Gilligan's sleeve. "You really don't look any different than you did yesterday, you know. Same clothes, same hair, same adorable face, same cute little hat. It's not about how you look- it's never about how you look. It's about how you act. How you are. How you believe in yourself. Don't you remember how you felt yesterday? How confidently you strutted about the place? All those things you said to me?" At that, she winked.

Gilligan flushed bright red. "I'm sorry about all those things, Ginger."

"Don't be," Ginger said. "In fact, I'm kind of missing them already. I think my favorite was, 'd_id it hurt when you fell from heaven'_?"

Now it was Gilligan's turn to smile. "I don't know where I heard half of those things. From my Navy days, I guess."

"I've met a sailor or two in my time, and none of them sweet-talked me in quite the way you did, William Gilligan," Ginger chuckled. "But you know- it's really not me you should be talking to right now. It's Mary Ann. She's awfully upset. She thinks you've lost your memory."

Gilligan lifted his hands to his face and peered at Ginger through his fingers. "Is it too late?" he whispered.

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to tell her I'm sorry. That I'm scared and I don't know what to do."

"It's never too late to say sorry," Ginger told him. "And it's never wrong to admit that you're scared. If anything, admitting you're afraid makes you more of a man than any number of corny pick-up lines could ever do."

Gilligan took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. "I do remember what it felt like to be confident," he said, pushing his hat onto the side of his head. "It felt good. I wasn't worried about how I looked to other people. I _did_ feel ten feet tall."

"Attaboy!" laughed Ginger.

"But in front of Mary Ann, even yesterday, I still felt like a little kid."

"Then nothing's changed," Ginger said, putting her arm around his shoulder. "Has it? Nothing's really changed at all."

"You're right," Gilligan admitted. "Nothing's really changed at all."

Ginger patted his arm affectionately ."Then you know what you need to do, Gilligan, and I shall leave you to it." As she sashayed towards the door, she glanced back at the First Mate over her shoulder. "Gilligan? For your information, you were right about one thing. Jam sure _don't _shake like that." And with her seductive, trademark wiggle, she was gone, leaving Gilligan grinning at himself in the mirror.


	10. Chapter 10

Mary Ann was sitting at the vanity cleansing her tear stained cheeks and reapplying her smudged makeup when the familiar knock came at the door. A gentle, slightly hesitant _tappity tap tap_. She sat up straight, the breath catching in her chest, knowing straight away who it was. She composed herself in the mirror, patted down her hair, fixed the neckline of her blouse and forced a happy smile onto her face.

_Be brave,_ she thought to herself. _Above all, be brave._

"Come in," she called, brightly. She put down the mascara wand and looked up as the door opened and Gilligan poked his head around the wooden frame. There was a moment's pause, and then the First Mate cleared his throat loudly.

"Hey there, beautiful," he announced. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past again?"

Mary Ann's heart flipped over. Unsure of what she'd just heard, she blinked and stared at the First Mate with saucer wide eyes. "Wh-what?" she croaked, her throat still sore from crying.

Gilligan threw the door open and strode into the room with his shoulders back and his arms swinging. "Baby, you must be a broom, 'cause you just swept me off my feet!" he hollered.

Mary Ann's mouth fell open, and then she covered her face with her hands and burst out laughing while strange tingles enveloped her whole body from head to foot. "Gilligan!" she giggled. "What's going on?"

"I just came to tell you..." Gilligan looked as though he were gearing up for another humdinger of a pickup line, then relaxed and looked at Mary Ann with nothing but honesty in his eyes. "I just came to tell you, _I remember._ I remember everything, Mary Ann. All of it. Every little detail. And I also came to tell you that I'm sorry I made you cry."

Mary Ann stood up on legs that felt like jelly. She accidentally knocked the vanity and a tube of moisturiser fell over. For a moment her feet seemed rooted to the spot, and then with a sob that was filled with happiness, she launched herself at Gilligan, who swept her into his wide open arms and swung her around and around until they both became giddy from laughing.

"I love you, Mary Ann," Gilligan whispered, when at last they stopped their frantic circling. "I love you so much. But being in love is scary and now that I'm back to normal, I'm so afraid of getting it all wrong."

"Oh, Sailor Man, I'm just so happy you remembered," Mary Ann said, her voice trembling. "Last night was the most precious thing that ever happened to me. _You're_ the most precious thing that ever happened to me. I was so frightened I'd lost you again!"

Gilligan pulled her into his arms and held on tight for all he was worth. "Not this time, Mary Ann. This time you've got me for good."

"Don't ever be afraid of me, Gilligan," Mary Ann said, burying her face in his rugby shirt. "I've loved you from the first. So many times I tried to tell you..."

"I know, I know," Gilligan said, gently. "And I remember all of them."

Mary Ann leaned back and looked up at him with moistened eyes full of love. "All this time we were both so afraid that we didn't love each other..."

"And all this time we loved each other without even knowing it," Gilligan finished.

"Oh, Gilligan." Mary Ann pressed herself against him again and shuddered as his hands caressed the small of her back. "Is it wrong to say that in a way, I'm glad those coconuts hit you on the head?"

Gilligan laughed. "I'm just as glad as you are, Mary Ann- but if you don't mind me saying, I hope it doesn't happen again. My head feels like a bowling pin that's been struck one too many times!"

Mary Ann sighed in his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest and remembered how it had felt in the cave, the warmth of his bare skin against hers and the tickle of his little patch of chest hair as she ran her fingertips through it while the storm raged all around them.

"You'll always be my coconut casanova," she said, contentedly. "I love you, Gilligan."

"I love you too, Mary Ann, more than you'll ever know." And then he kissed her, a kiss as warm, deep and passionate as any they had shared during the time when he had felt like the World's Greatest Lover.

"Mary Ann?" he said, when the long kiss finally ended.

"Yes, Sailor Man?"

"Would you go out with me tonight?"

"Tonight, tomorrow night, and every single night after that," Mary Ann nodded. "Until the stars fall from the sky and heaven and earth collide."

Gilligan grinned at her and pasted on his most cheesy, Lothario-type smile. "I think I can arrange that," he said smoothly, and then laughed as Mary Ann grabbed him by the brim of his hat and pulled his head down for another kiss, a kiss more scorchingly spine tingling than any he had ever known. A kiss that sent them both crashing into the vanity until everything that was sitting on it was on the floor and Mary Ann herself was perched atop it.

_Things that change our lives are always scary,_ the Skipper had said. But if love really was the scariest thing of all, then maybe Gilligan was a braver man than he'd ever though it was possible to be.

And as he kissed Mary Ann and felt the warmth of her all-encompassing love around him, he realised he didn't need two coconuts to tell him that.

The End

* * *

End note: Shout out to my friend JWood201 as always, for helping me out with some of those epic pickup lines and lots of other little ideas that worked their way into this story. Thanks everyone for joining me on this ride and especially everyone who reviewed. I love Gilligan's Island and I love you guys too. All for one and one for all! Huzzah!


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